


a promise to the moon

by gamora (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Astrological Witches, Astrology, Clairevoyant!Cas, Fluff, M/M, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gamora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, I always maintained that it’s better if we don’t know our own future.”  Castiel says as he sets Dean’s hand down.</p><p>“What, is it bad?” Dean stiffens in his seat.</p><p>“No, not at all.  Quite the opposite, you have a bright future.” He pauses, before speaking up again.  “Would it be entirely inappropriate if I told you that your palm said I should take you to dinner this Friday?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a promise to the moon

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song 'I Made A Promise To The Moon' by Jason Webley (I had the pleasure of watching him perform it live at a Welcome To Night Vale show, then again at the Oregon Country Fair, and it seemed to fit this verse~).
> 
> Im a wiccan/witch, but I'm not astrologically-focused. Any innacuracies are my own mistake. 
> 
> Thanks to my beta, the lovely Rachelle, aka kurtvonngt.tumblr.com ♥
> 
> Reblog this fic on tumblr here: http://caswitch.tumblr.com/post/102320668862/deancas-2k-astrological-witch-cas-read-on-ao3

Castiel dreamt of Aquarius last night.  

In the dream, The Moon was sitting at the foot of his bed, as she always does. His window was not open, and his door was not ajar. The Moon was as brilliant as the rays of moonlight that struck down on his floor on any other night, and when he woke, they were still shining down in her wake.  Sometimes, he has a feeling she never leaves, and therefore never has to let herself in.  

This morning, he has a message to deliver. The Moon was quite clear. Aquarius is in trouble.  Aquarius needs to turn right.  Aquarius needs to be saved.  

Aquarius is in your hands, Castiel.

☽ ☾

Someone must have been in Dean’s room last night, and they replaced his head with a bowling ball.  It’s heavy, and he’s scared to lift it off the pillow, because then it might drop and crash through the floor and kill the people in the apartment below him.

It sounds a lot worse than it actually is.  

He remembers a pretty bartender leaning in and asking “ _Do you wanna get fucked up_ _?”_  and Charlie answering for him -  _“_ _Hell yeah!_ _”_  -  before they were all doing shots of something blue.  Everything he tries to remember after that is just flashes.  He thinks he might have gotten a handjob in the mens bathroom, or thrown up in the mens bathroom, or - god forbid - both. 

Whatever happened, it’s not his problem anymore. Right now his problem is that he’s an hour late for work and he’s having trouble convincing himself himself to get out of bed. Slowly, he frowns and rolls towards the side of the bed, kicking his feet out until they hit the floor and he has no choice but to stand up.  

Now he’s standing.  It’s one of the worst things he’s ever felt.

☽ ☾

Theres a small bakery that Cas visits twice weekly. Normally he’d stick to Whole Foods, but they make this French Batard that’s softer than the butter he puts on it, and no matter how many times he tries to find a healthier substitute he always ends up back at Marché. That, and they have the widest selection of imported spices Cas has ever seen outside of a herbalism shop, and for half the price. When he walks in, the girl behind the counter smiles.

“Cas! To what do we owe the pleasure?” Gilda asks, resting her hands on her hips.

“It would seem that when you eat bread several times per day, you run out quickly.”  Cas replies.

“Sliced Batard?”

“Yes, please.”

She turns around and grabs a loaf off the wrack, heading into the back to slice it up. Cas tries to wait calmly, but the hairs on the back of his neck are beginning to stand up. Gilda calls out a question, something generic like ‘How is your morning going?’, but Castiel is lost in his own head.  

Aquarius is near. Aquarius must be saved.

“Fine, thank you.” He murmurs in reply, looking around the shop.

Theres an old man sitting in the back, sipping a coffee and reading the paper. He’s a Taurus, and when he gets home he will discover his wife with the gardener, but he is not the one Castiel is looking for.  

There is a woman with bright red hair at the other end of the shop, flipping through cookbooks. Castiel has to focus for a second before he gets a read on her. Scorpio, he finally realizes, and a hungover Scorpio at that.  

“Will that be all?”

Cas turns back to Gilda.  What is she doing for him again?  Right, bread. He needs to pay.

“Um, yes, that will be all.”  He replies, pulling ten dollars out of his pocket and sliding it over. “Keep the change, and have a good day.”  

She tries to thank him, but he’s already gone. Gilda is a Pisces; he could tell the moment he first met her. She’d probably do well with that Scorpio in the corner, but he doesn’t have time to say that.  He needs to find Aquarius before it’s too late.

☽ ☾

Over the phone it sounds like Bobby doesn’t buy Dean’s excuse of ‘my alarm clock didn’t go off”, but he also doesn’t press for any more information. Dean is incredibly thankful, because he really doesn’t feel like explaining to his boss-slash-uncle that he’s pretty sure he threw up after a handjob and then passed out drunk in his own bed, and then slept through two alarms.

It’s almost 10 AM. His shift technically starts at 9, but he needs coffee first if he’s going to get through the day. There’s a cool little cafe on 13th and Olive called ‘Perk’, that’s down near all the posh florists and bakeries. Charlie works there part-time, but Dean has a feeling she called in sick today.

When he gets to the cafe, he pays for a large black coffee and steps out the door.  What happens next feels like it’s in slow motion.

The front doors of Perk open into a rounded corner, in front of a busy intersection. People shuffle around the turn on a regular basis.  Dean has barely gotten a foot out the door when he realizes someone is bumping into him, and hard.  The man lets out a startled cry, and then Dean hears himself swearing as the hot coffee hits his own chest.  The foam cup bounces a few times on the pavement, next to what appears to be a loaf of bread.  

“I’m so sorry...”  He hears the man start to say, and Dean is preparing to yell, or to demand a new coffee, but then he looks up. Those eyes could steal words out of anyones mouth.

☽ ☾

Castiel gets out of the bakery and begins heading West on Olive.  Aquarius is closer than ever. He lets himself be guided past hotdog stands and bookshops until he spots an intersection.  

‘This is it, Castiel’ something says to him. ‘This is where you meet Aquarius’.

He rushes forward, bread tucked tightly under his arm, up to the corner and around the turn before - shit. Someone is bumping into him, and he feels a small splash of hot coffee, even though the man he bumped into clearly got the brunt of it.

“I’m so sorry...”  He begins to say, but then he looks up.

There isn’t a single doubt in Castiel’s mind.  

This is him.

“Oh God, you’re Aquarius.” He mumbles to himself, reaching out and grabbing the man’s hand.  He looks at his palm, all of the lines falling right where they’re supposed to. Castiel needs to keep him here.  Castiel needs to keep him safe because The Moon was quite clear - Aquarius must turn right.

☽ ☾

This is by far the weirdest morning Dean’s had in a long time.

“Uh, yeah, how did you know that?” He asks, resisting the urge to pull his hand away. “Are you some kinda’ palm reader?”

“No.” The guy replies simply.  

“Oh, well, that clears that up.” Dean said dryly.

“This might sound strange, but which direction are you headed?  Right or left?”

Dean isn’t sure why, but he feels like it’s important that he gives an honest answer.

“Left.” He says.

The man’s eyes go wide, and he begins to shake his head.

“No, no, you can’t go left,” He begs.  “I know this sounds strange, but please, you have to understand -”

“Why not?” Dean cuts him off.  

That’s a good question, isn’t it?

“Because -” Before Castiel can finish his sentence, he hears a car horn blare, and a squeal of brakes. To the left of them, just around the corner, a Honda Civic is colliding with a SUV.  They skid across the crosswalk, stopping only when they smash into a telephone pole on the side of the street, and Castiel realizes that if Dean had turned left, he would have been taken with.

There is a tense moment. Dean looks back at Castiel with an expression of disbelief.  Cas knows that Aquarius has questions, and that the answers will most likely only leave him more confused, but he feels that he owes an explanation.

“How about I buy you another coffee?”

☽ ☾

They end up at a cafe five blocks away. Castiel pays for Dean’s black coffee, and a latte for himself. It’s obvious they need to talk, but the conversation is surprisingly hard to begin.

“My name is Castiel.”  He begins, reaching out a hand over the table to shake.

“Dean.”  He replies.  Cas likes that name, and it’s much easier than ‘Aquarius’.

“I suppose I have some explaining to do, Dean.” Cas wraps both of his hands around his cup of coffee and looks down into the foam. The barista drew a heart.  Cas appreciated the attention to detail.  “I’m a witch - ”

Before he can get done with his sentence, Dean is laughing and rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay, is this one of those gag shows?  Because I gotta’ say, staging an entire car accident?  That’s dedication.”

“No, this isn’t a joke.”  Cas says with a frown. “I’m being completely serious. I’m a witch, with a specific focus on astrological signs and patterns. I also have a certain amount of clairvoyance.  Last night I received a message, I - I was told that I needed to find you, and save you.”

Dean’s expression has melted from cocky disbelief, to confusion.

“Save me from what?  That accident?”

“Yes. Had I not interveined, you would have turned left, and...”  Cas shrugs, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“That’s just... look, even if that  _is_  true, how the hell did you know I was the one you were lookin’ for?”

“Your eyes. And your hands. There was no doubt in my mind that you were the one.”  

Dean lets out a deep breath and leans back in his chair.  

“What else do you know about me from my eyes and hands?”

Castiel wasn’t expecting the question. He tries to avoid reading into people too much; it always felt like an invasion of privacy. But Dean  _did_  ask, and Castiel  _has_ always loved a chance to show off.  He beckons Dean closer with a finger, and reaches across the table to grab his hand.  There are thick callouses on his fingers, and you don’t need to be a witch to guess he works with his hands - and hard, at that.

“Your mother is dead,”  Is the first thing Castiel says.  “Your father is alive, but I don’t see him in your life.  You are... unsure of your future.”  He feels Dean tense up, and realizes that the topic he is focusing on most likely feels very invasive and that he should probably scale it back.  “But you work a steady job, and there are many people around you who care about you very much.”

Cas notes to himself that Dean is single, but doesn’t say it out loud.

“And you know all that...because you’re a witch?”  

“Yes.”

Dean hesitates before he speaks up again.

“Can you - uh, can you just see stuff thats happening now, or do you know what’s gonna happen to me in the future?”

If Castiel had to guess, he’d say theres a hint of trepidation Dean’s voice.

“If you’d like me to.”  Castiel traces his index finger along Dean’s life line and love line. They don’t mean much to him on sight, but somehow he can feel every little microridge and pattern in his skin. It all means something. He knows what every crack and crevice indicates, and he knows that at any moment, Dean could change his entire destiny if he really wanted to. But what really interests Castiel is not the fact that Dean’s career is on a steady incline, or that he is going to get happier in the following months.  The thing that strikes Castiel the most is that he sees  _himself_  inside Dean’s palm.  

“You know, I always maintained that it’s better if we don’t know our own future.”  Castiel says as he sets Dean’s hand down.

“What, is it bad?” Dean stiffens in his seat.

“No, not at all.  Quite the opposite, you have a bright future.” He pauses, before speaking up again.  “Would it be entirely inappropriate if I told you that your palm said I should take you to dinner this Friday?”

“Shut up.”  Dean mumbles, even though he’s started to smile softly.

“I’m extremely serious.  It’s been revealed to me that this is not the last time we meet, so, would you accompany me to dinner on Friday?”  

There are a few long seconds where Castiel is afraid Dean will say no. He wouldn’t blame him – some random stranger saves you from a car accident, mysteriously knows about your family history, and then says ‘the stars told me we should go out’?  Not exactly the kind of story you want to tell your children one day. Or maybe it is.

“I bet you already know the answer.” Replies Dean, finishing off the last of his coffee. He grabs a napkin, and digs around in his pocket until he can find a pen to scribble down his number down onto the paper.  “Thanks for the coffee.  See you Friday.”

☽ ☾

On their third date, Cas buys Dean white roses.  

He has no idea if Dean will like them - The Moon seemed pretty standoffish when he inquired about ways to impress Dean. The dinner on Friday had been pleasant, and the movie they went to on Wednesday after that had Castiel snuggled up against his side for the entire two hours. But third dates are different, right? That’s what everyone (ie: Castiel’s asshole brothers) had told him.  

Castiel waited on the park bench for Dean until he saw him pull up in the Impala and step out onto the curb.  Castiel stood up and, upon catching his eye, made his way over towards the path.  They met halfway - Dean, with his easy smile and band T-shirt, and Cas, with his stupid sweater and dumb fucking flowers that were  _probably a bad idea anyways_  –

“Those for me?”

“Yes.”  Castiel hands over the flowers.  Something inside of him says that it’s not enough.  He isn’t sure if it’s The Moon talking, or just his internal desires, but there is a resounding ‘kiss him’ that echoes through the halls of his mind.  

Castiel listens.

He leans forward and brings Dean in by the neck for a soft kiss.  Up close, he smells faintly of cinnamon, and his lips are warm.  Castiel feels a hand on his waist, pulling him in closer.  He drops the roses in favor of grabbing Dean with both arms.  

Even though it is the middle of the day, The Moon is in the sky, and she is smiling.


End file.
